


thoughts i (used to) have

by falqner



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Makeup, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Post-Time Skip, Wistful, a lot of lip gloss and my use of "powder blue" inspired by my powder blue highlighter, as in highlighter marker not makeup highlighter, pov komori motoya
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falqner/pseuds/falqner
Summary: There are many things I think about when I look at you.(Or: drabbles surrounding komori and suna on the EJP team.)
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	1. summer looks best on you

**Author's Note:**

> komosuna world domination because bel (@diphylleias) and i said so <3

_ Tell me about the dream where we talked on the rooftop _

_ of a dying warehouse on eighth avenue, overlooking _

_ the forest, and trains at our feet. _

_ ~ Richard Siken, “Last Year Without” _

* * *

  
  


“Komori.” Someone’s next to him, shoes sinking into the sand.  _ Imprints, _ he thinks. “We have to go back.”

Motoya lifts the collar of his jacket up to his nose, breathes in and out. With his free hand, he traces lines in the sand, swirls and hearts and stars that don’t matter in the end. Just for fun.

“Suna,” he breathes out, “just stay here. It’s fun!”

Suna huffs out an irritated sigh before saying, “It’s late, and I wanna go to sleep.” He doesn’t take any steps to leave, though. He stays there, feet planted, heels still sinking deeper.

“You’re no fun,” Motoya pouts. “Why don’t you just enjoy things? The little things?”

“I—”

“C’mon, we’re best friends. We can relax on a beach the night before morning practice.” Motoya looks up at him, finds him with his hands shoved in his pockets and his eyes looking everywhere except at him. If Motoya imagines hard enough, Suna is drilling a hole into the sand, breaking through the lithosphere and reaching down into the earth’s core. 

“Honestly, you’re too much sometimes.” There’s no bite behind those words, but Motoya can’t place the tone. Is it fondness? Aggravation? Honesty?

He finds that he doesn’t really want to think about it.

Suna sits down next to him, digging his palms into the sand and letting his fingers get buried. “Komori,” he says quietly, almost a whisper.

“Hm?” He hums in response.

“Do you ever,” he shudders deeply, “miss being a kid?”

Motoya tuts and smiles. “Ha! You’re not the kind of person to think about that stuff.”

“Answer the question.”

“Well,” he says thoughtfully. There’s a certain kind of magic in the air, one that permeates the ocean and resonates in every corner of the world. The kind that is only for the two of them, sitting at this beach at midnight, waiting for something to change. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have any regrets?” Suna says quickly before snapping his mouth shut.

“What kinds of questions are these?” Motoya asks flippantly. “Also, what’s the point in having regrets? If I didn’t put any effort, if I didn’t try to rectify my mistakes...I wouldn’t be here. On the team.”

_ With you, _ he doesn’t say.

“If you spend too much time thinking about your past and regrets, you can’t move forward. I regretted not receiving Kiyoomi’s spikes before, but it’s all a build up. All of them just get you where you need to be.”

He snorts loudly. “Never knew you to be philosophical.”

“You try being cousins with Sakusa Kiyoomi and see where that gets you. I’m only ‘philosophical’ when it counts.”

A long silence stretches between them: comfortable, impenetrable. Neither say a word; they watch the ocean lap at the edges of the dry sand, waves and waves moving back and forth. It starts, maybe, as some sort of omen, a prayer. Toeing the line between dry and wet, never quite reaching nor retracting.

Motoya gets up, holds a hand out to Suna. He looks at it, wary. Motoya scoffs. “We have morning practice. We should get to bed.”

Suna chuckles under his breath before getting pulled up. “That’s why I tried to pick you up.”

“You’re not my keeper.”

Motoya thinks he looks beautiful, hair flowing in the wind and eyes peeking out from his collar. He's pretty. He's _gorgeous._

(And it's cliche, but his breath hitches and his heart skips a beat when Suna Rintarou says one more thing.)

"I may as well be."

  
  



	2. two things that are limited edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're pretty no matter what you do and I think I kind of love that about you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ft. lip gloss and powder blue eyeliner

_ I would like to be the air _

_ that inhabits you for a moment _

_ only. I would like to be that unnoticed _

_ & that necessary. _

_ ~ Margaret Atwood, “Variation on the Word Sleep” _

* * *

There's lip gloss on the shelf. Rose-colored lip gloss with gold undertones in a cylindrical bottle, shimmering from the light coming in through the window. The sign below advertises its good qualities:  _ Limited edition! Strawberry-kiwi scented! 20% off all purchases! _

"They should just make the price the cheaper version instead of '20% off'," Motoya grumbles under his breath. The shopping basket sways in his hand and taps against his leg and maybe he’s irritated by that, because nobody wants a shopping basket hitting their leg in the same spot every second.

He sighs, grabs the lip gloss from the shelf, and pays for it at the register. No one asks any questions. 

°•. ✿ .•°

Motoya rummages through his bag, taking everything out and setting each item on the table. A pack of chips. A loaf of bread. Hair elastics for Suna to snap on his wrist. The lip gloss.

It’s not like he’s uncomfortable, per say. He just doesn’t want to answer questions that people will undoubtedly ask if they see his shiny lips. And people would question the lip gloss container on his bathroom sink even though he wouldn’t actually wear it, because he’s not very good at applying lip gloss.

_ Shouldn’t have listened to those damn advertisements…. _

“Hey. What’d you get?” Suna appears out of thin air, sitting down on the chair next to him. Motoya makes no move to hide the gloss, but he doesn’t show it off, either. 

He shrugs. “Just some food. Oh, and your hair ties.” He throws them in his direction. “You really should stop breaking them.”

Suna laughs. “Can’t. They’re nice to snap.”

“ _ And _ they add up. Keep this up and I won’t have any more money.” Motoya rolls his eyes and smiles goodnaturedly.

Suna isn’t listening. He bores holes into the lip gloss tube rolling on the wood surface before picking it up and rubbing his thumb against it. Motoya laughs nervously. “Oh...that’s….”

“Do you want to put it on?”

“What?”

Suna looks at him again, no judgment, no malicious question. Just curiosity. “Do you want to put it on?” he asks again.

“Uh.” He scratches the back of his head and smiles sheepishly. “I’m...not good at applying makeup.”

He speaks quickly, “I can put it on for you. I also have something to test.”

“How would you know how to apply makeup?”

“It’s not hard. Also, Osamu went through a makeup phase, so he asked me to help.”

“What are you even testing?”

At that, Suna smirks, corners of his mouth slow to upturn. “You’ll see.”

°•. ✿ .•°

Motoya is tempted to touch his lips. Suna slaps his hand away. “Don’t. Touch. It.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

Suna scoffs and tilts Motoya’s chin up. “Close your eyes.”

He does as he’s told, and he feels something cold touch his eyelid. He resists the urge to flinch away and rub at it because he knows it’s just eyeliner.  _ New _ , expensive eyeliner that Suna was eyeing every time they passed by the store.

(And yet, he’s using it on  _ Komori Motoya _ of all people.)

Suna works quickly, drawing in one line, then building on top of it in a minute. He moves to the other eye, cursing when the pen gets caught on one of the folds of Motoya’s eyelids, wiping it away gently. It’s almost serene, candid, this kind of afternoon. Spent in the bathroom with makeup products.

“Okay,” Suna caps the pen. “You can open your eyes.”

He opens his eyes slowly and glances in the mirror. The eyeliner is powder blue and flicks down, subtle. Alluring at the same time. There’s little to no glitter in the gloss; it’s a simple sheen that barely shows up.

(He thinks he likes it.)

“How do you like it?”

“It….” his hands hover over his cheeks, “looks...pretty. It looks good.”

(He’s tempted to kiss Suna Rintarou’s cheek, leave a glossy lip stain on his cheek.)

“Good. Do you wanna keep it on for the day?”

“I do.”

(He’s this close to grabbing his collar and kissing him on the lips.)

Suna nods, then turns away and walks out the door. He doesn’t spare a second glance at Motoya, his glossy lips and colored eyes. His footsteps fade further away, because this was another day. Another friend, asking for makeup application. Another friend, asking for help with his dexterous hands. This is not special.

_ Oh.... _

And as Motoya grips the bathroom sink, white-knuckled to match the counter color, he thinks he’s never been so stupid until now. Age 23, EJP Libero, now a dabbler in makeup.

Age 23, EJP Libero, dabbler in makeup, kind-of-maybe in love with Suna Rintarou.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/falqner) | [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/falqner)

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/falqner) | [CuriousCat](https://curiouscat.me/falqner)


End file.
